


Let Me Show You Them

by Chash



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, F/M, Pokemon - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 23:50:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6728296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke's always happy to get new regulars at the coffee shop, especially cute ones. She's just really not sure what this guy's deal is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Me Show You Them

**Author's Note:**

> So, Bob Morley was at a con this weekend wearing glasses and holding stuffed Pikachu dolls and wearing Pokeball hats and generally just ruining my life, and I sent my BFF Steve a bunch of pictures of this so he could express his condolences about how my life was being ruined, a duty he performed admirably. He also gave me the plot of a fic I should write where Bellamy was constantly carrying stuffed Pokemon toys around with him, so it seemed only fair that I fulfill my duty to write it. Stay tuned for more weird Bellarke Pokemon content in the semi-near future.

The first thing Clarke notices about the guy is that he's hot: average height, but broad, with curly dark hair and a pair of thick black glasses that really work on him. He's got a gray t-shirt with a 1-up mushroom on it, which is kind of endearing, and his arms are unreal huge.

The second thing she notices is that he's holding a Pokemon doll, and obviously once that happens everything else is derailed.

Clarke would put him at a few years older than she is, somewhere in the twenty-seven to thirty range, so it's possible he's got a kid, but he doesn't have a kid _now_. He is currently a grown man, alone, with a stuffed Pokemon under his arm.

Maybe he's meeting a kid? There are all sorts of reasonable explanations for this. And it's not like there's anything _wrong_ with adults having Pokemon toys, even without children, it's just--she didn't really expect it.

When he gets to the register, she sees he has freckles scattered all over his face and a great smile. In addition to the Pokemon.

"Hi," she says, because she's a professional. "What can I get you?"

"Large coffee? Dark roast. And, uh--" He makes a face. "Any recommendations for cookies? You have way too many."

"For an adult or a child?"

His laugh is surprised. He's got the Pokemon--Bulbasaur, she's pretty sure--tucked under his arm, casual, like he doesn't even realize it's there. It's oddly fascinating to Clarke. "Uh, adult. Why does it matter?"

"We do a cranberry dark-chocolate chip," she explains. "It's my favorite, but it's usually not sweet enough for kids, so I tell them to go for the homemade oreos."

"Those both sound pretty awesome," he says. "Can I try one of each?"

"Sure. For here or to go?"

"Here, thanks."

"Got it." She grabs his order, two cookies on a plate and a giant mug of dark roast, and brings it back to him. "You get free refills, if you manage to finish that."

He looks at the mug with raised eyebrows. "Yeah, uh, I think if I get a free refill on that I won't sleep for a week."

"And if that's what you're looking for, I won't judge you." She gives him his total and he pays in cash, juggling his wallet and his Bulbasaur with the practiced ease of someone who does this a lot. Maybe it's, like--a therapy animal thing. Comfort. He seems pretty relaxed, but Clarke knows all about anxiety and PTSD and all sorts of other invisible things that could make someone uncomfortable in public spaces. 

The thought actually makes her feel guilty for worrying about it, because, fuck, it's none of her business, right? He's a guy with a stuffed animal who wants some cookies. He's just trying to live his life.

"And your change," she says, giving him a bright smile. He dumps it all in the tip jar and juggles his stuff again to get the plate of cookies and the mug.

"Thanks." 

He takes a booth in the corner, facing the door, so Clarke can just see the back of his head. And it's not like she's staring at him or anything, but it's pretty quiet, just a few regulars hanging out in booths and a few people trickling in for late lunches or after-work coffees, so when she looks around, it's easy for her eye to fall on him. He's playing a 3DS, and he has a phone on the table which buzzes periodically. 

When she goes over to clean off a table near him--for legitimate reasons, because it needs cleaning--she sees he's got Bulbasaur on the table next to his plate, like he's watching the DS.

Clarke has to bite back on her smile.

He leaves after about half an hour, but he stops by the register first. "Is there somewhere I can bus these?" he asks, holding up his plate and mug.

"I can take them," she says, and then adds, impulsive, "But for future reference, if you're planning to come back, we've got a drop-off station over there, too."

He glances where she pointed, smiling. "Yeah, I'll probably be in tomorrow. Thanks."

*

The second day he comes in, he's got a Jigglypuff, and the third, it's Squirtle. On the third he also pays with credit card, so she learns his name is Bellamy Blake, which is good, because calling him _hot stuffed animal guy_ was weird. 

He always sits at the same table, always plays 3DS while he drinks his coffee and eats whatever snack he got, usually a cookie or brownie. His phone is always on the table and he always checks it every time it buzzes; Clarke still wants to figure him out and still feels bad about it. But he's becoming a regular, and she likes learning about her regulars. It's not _personal_. She knows Monty is in grad school, had a falling out with his best friend because he had to move away for grad school and his best friend is still upset about it, and is gay and having trouble meeting other queer people in the area. She knows Raven is an actual rocket scientist who fucked up her leg in college, which is the reason she's not an actual astronaut, and that fucking _sucks_. She knows Lincoln is an artist, and she knows Lexa is a lawyer, and she knows Maya loves her coffee with so much cream it's barely even brown.

So when Bellamy's been in six times in two weeks, she figures it's time to get to know him.

"What are you playing?" she asks.

He startles a little; it's Wednesday, his stuffed animal is a Charmander, and his phone is open to a text conversation with someone named Octavia.

"Uh, Smash Brothers," he says. He smiles. "Did you need this table?"

Clarke makes a show of looking around; there's a couple sitting in one of the other booths and Raven on her laptop at one of the tables, and that's it. "I'm being friendly."

"Oh." He seems to be thinking it over. "Any particular reason?"

"Well, you're coming in a lot, so I feel like I should get to know you. I try to get to know the regulars." She offers her hand. "I'm Clarke."

"Bellamy."

"Who do you play in Smash Brothers?"

"Kirby."

"Really?"

His eyebrows shoot up. "Should I not?"

"I was expecting a Pokemon," she says, and feels a little bad when his cheeks redden. "I play Shulk," she adds. "I was Pikachu until he came out, though."

"Do you just play Shulk for the underwear option?"

"Like ninety percent," she says. "But I'm also really into zero-suit Samus."

"Equal opportunity objectification?"

"Bi."

"Fair enough." His phone buzzes, and he glances down. "Sorry, one sec." He texts back quickly, sighs. 

"Girlfriend?"

"Sister." He wets his lips. "She's in undergrad. She just started an internship at the law firm upstairs." 

"Cool, good for her."

"Yeah." He pauses, drumming his fingers on the table. "She's, uh--we keep trying to meet up here, but they're working her pretty hard, so we just end up playing Smash Brothers on Street Pass because her boss doesn't want her leaving the office for breaks." He smiles a little. "It's a great opportunity, but I miss seeing her."

"What about outside of work?"

"We're both pretty busy," he says. "It's not like I never see her, but she's living in the dorms now and I've got, uh--this is my primary downtime, honestly."

"What do you do?"

"I teach high school," he says. "And I'm doing grad school part time. So, yeah. This is basically the only time I'm not in class, grading, or studying."

"Wow."

He shrugs one shoulder. "It is what it is." His phone buzzes again, and he shows Clarke the message: _yuuuuuup, Indra just got a new project for me to start. sorry bell :(_

"That sucks," says Clarke.

"It's not like we don't talk. But, yeah. I miss seeing her. This is at least close enough for Street Pass, so--"

"So that's why you keep coming back."

"Yeah. And, honestly, psychologically speaking, having half an hour of the day where I'm just goofing off is probably really good for me."

"I always approve of goofing off."

"Is this your place?" he asks.

"Yeah. Me and a couple friends. Wells does the finance stuff, Harper does the baking, and I do the front of house."

"Cool. That's probably pretty busy too."

"Yeah. But it's easy for people to come find me and hang out."

"And you talk to your regulars to pretend like you have a social life."

She grins. "That too."

"I guess whatever works for you," he says. He runs his hand through his hair, messing it up even further. "I should probably get going, if O isn't coming."

"Yeah, don't let me keep you."

His smile is wry. "Trust me, I'd rather stay here. But I've got grading to do."

"What do you teach?"

"Latin."

"Cool. You'll be back tomorrow?"

"Yeah," he says. "I'll be back tomorrow."

*

Once they've introduced themselves, Bellamy starts coming in more often. Clarke learns his schedule in the way she tends to learn all the regulars' schedules; he comes by after school to do grading or work on his laptop, and leaves around six to go to his evening class, if he has one. He always has a Pokemon with him, which Clarke realizes means he brings them to school, which has her boggling for about ten minutes in spite of her sincere efforts to not care about the whole thing.

It's just--the more she talks to him, the less she can figure it out. He's smart and sarcastic, pretty charming when he wants to be. He seems confident and easy in his own skin, and Clarke does not know why he carries stuffed animals around with him. It just--people don't _do_ that.

"Maybe it's a fetish," says Monty.

"Maybe you're a fetish," she says, absent.

"I'm trying to help."

"Maybe it's just, like, his thing. Everyone needs a thing, right? The hat lady, the fantasy football guy. He's the Pokemon guy."

"What's your thing?"

"Angry barista? Boobs?"

Monty snorts. "Okay, what's my thing?"

"I don't know. You play with your bottom lip when you're stressed?"

"Which is just like carrying around a different video game plushie every day."

Clarke groans and puts her head down on the counter. "I can't decide if I'm an asshole for caring or not. Like, he's a great guy, I really like him, it's just--I hate not knowing shit. And that one's weird."

"I just want to know about his hot friend."

"His name is Miller--I think it's his last name? He's an English teacher who works with Bellamy." She smirks. "He seems cool and never even glances at my chest, if it makes you feel better."

"I wasn't feeling bad," he says. "But that's good to know. You know, generally. As trivia."

Clarke snorts. "Happy to help."

"Speaking of helping, here's some advice: ask him about his Pokemon."

"That seems rude."

"It's not like he doesn't know he has it."

"I guess."

"Maybe he thinks it's weird you haven't brought it up. Maybe he brings it around as a conversation starter and you're letting him down."

It actually does seem kind of possible. Or, okay, _possible_ is stretching it. But it seems as likely as anything else she's come up with. 

Mostly, she remembers his flush when she asked why he didn't play a Pokemon in Smash, and she doesn't want him to feel embarrassed again. He's a good guy; it's his business.

But she really wants to know.

They've been getting closer, too; after Monty, he's the regular she talks to most, and he's in more often than Monty, so he's probably actually winning. She'll schedule her breaks while he's around, sit across from him with her own DS and kick his ass in Street Smash.

But he's busy, probably doesn't have any time for friendship, let alone dating. Not that he's expressed any interest in dating her, just--she wouldn't mind if he did. Have an interest. 

And then, after a few months of semi-friendship, a hot brunette comes in, looks between her and Monroe behind the register, and asks, "Which of you is Clarke?"

"Me."

"Cool." She offers her hand. "Octavia Blake. You know my brother?"

She's a little younger than Clarke expected, probably only nineteen, with long brown hair and bright eyes.

"I do," says Clarke, shaking. "He's usually not in until later, if you're looking for him."

She shakes her head. "Looking for you. Bell and Miller are having an end of year party and he's too much of a chickenshit to ask you to come, so I'm asking you for him."

"End of year?" Clarke asks, blank, because it's May, but then her brain kicks in. "Teachers, duh. Uh--you're inviting me to your brother's party?"

"Well, I'm more _informing_ you of my brother's party," she says. "You can tell him I told you, and he can be embarrassed and talk around it, but he'll definitely invite you if the conversation actually _happens_. You just needed to know about it so you could bring it up." Octavia squints at her. "You will, right?"

"Yes, I am absolutely planning to tell your brother about this weird conversation," Clarke says.

"Awesome. Can I get a large vanilla latte to go?"

Clarke rings her up and tries not to think about it as she waits for four o'clock, which is when Bellamy usually shows up. She's _always_ waiting for four o'clock now, which is a problem all by itself. But--she really likes Bellamy. He's her favorite regular. 

He gets in at 4:08; his button down is undone and he's wearing a t-shirt that says _Classicists do it until everything is in ruins_ under it. His stuffed animal of the day is a Squirtle.

"Hey," he says, flashing her a grin. "How's your day going?"

"Weird." She passes him his coffee. "Food?"

"You have any ham and cheese pockets left? I missed lunch."

"Sure. Heated?"

"Yeah, thanks."

She gets the pocket in the oven and rings him up, leans on the counter as he waits. "I met your sister today."

"Really?"

"Yup. She says you're having a party, and I should tell you I know so you can invite me. Because apparently you want to but don't know how."

He scrubs his hand over his face. "Yeah, you definitely met O."

"Are you really having a party?"

"Yeah." He wets his lips. "And I really wanted to invite you. But I thought it might be weird?"

"Nah," says Clarke, smiling. "I wouldn't talk to you if I didn't like you, you know."

"It's kind of your job to talk to everyone who comes in," he says, but he's smiling now too. "If you refused service to people you didn't like, you guys would go out of business."

"We would not."

"You know every time I come in, you give me a run-down of asshole customers you wanted to punch, right?" He grins. "Don't get me wrong, I love the run-down of asshole customers you wanted to punch. But if you didn't serve them--"

"I don't sit at their tables and kick their asses at Smash Brothers either," she says. "Actually, I guess I might kick their asses at Smash Brothers. Some of them might have Street Pass." The oven dings, and Clarke gets his ham and cheese pocket on a plate for him. "Anyway, I like you. If you have a party, I'll definitely come."

"Yeah?"

"Yup."

"So, uh--if you give me your number I can text you my address. It's this Friday, at me and Miller's place. Feel free to bring friends or whatever. We have a pretty big back yard and are buying way too much alcohol."

"Cool," says Clarke. "I'll see if Wells and Harper are interested." She holds out her hand, and he catches up after a second and hands over his phone. She puts herself in as _Clarke_ and adds a coffee cup emoji after, sends herself a text that says _Bellamy!_

"Am I getting emoji after my name?" he asks, smiling a little. 

"Mushroom," she decides, keying him in. "Red, not green, but close enough, right?"

"Green?" he asks, frowning, and she feels herself blush.

"The first time I met you, you were wearing a 1-Up shirt."

"Oh." He smiles, clearly pleased. "Yeah, that's a good one."

"Go eat your lunch," she says. "I'll be over on my break."

He texts his address and the time of the party five minutes later, with an actual picture of a 1-Up mushroom attached, and Clarke just texts back, _Dork_.

*

Wells finally managed to ask Raven out and has a date, and Harper hasn't actually met Bellamy, so Clarke ends up asking Monty to come to the party with her, both because he still has a thing for Miller and because, honestly, she doesn't want to go alone. She likes Bellamy, of course, and Miller well enough, but Octavia was kind of terrifying, and she has no idea who else is going to be there. So she figured she should go for safety in numbers.

"Do you think the decorations are going to be Pokemon-themed?" Monty asks, and Clarke decides he might not have been the safest number to bring. 

"He said there would be a lot of alcohol."

"Good. I looked up Pokemon shots."

She chokes. "Really?"

"Hey, I'm your wingman. Your Wingull, if you will."

"Is that a Pokemon?"

Monty looks affronted. "You don't know?"

"Honestly, if it wasn't a playable character in Smash Brothers--"

"You are so unprepared to date this guy."

Clarke doesn't have a response to that, so she just knocks on the door. Someone yells, "It's open!" and they push in.

"People are mostly in the back," says a pretty girl with curly hair. "Hi, I'm Gina."

"Clarke," she says. "And this is Monty. We know Bellamy."

"Cool. Drinks?"

"Can you do a--" Monty starts, and Clarke elbows him. "I was going to ask if she had Fireball!"

Clarke gets rum and Coke and Monty gets Fireball and Dr. Pepper and hisses, "Charizard," as they head to the backyard. Clarke elbows him, hard.

It's not a huge party, maybe about thirty people, and there's music and some dancing, but mostly just everyone hanging out and talking. She feels weird looking for Bellamy for a second, until she remembers they're friends, he invited her, and she doesn't know anyone else, so it would honestly be stranger to not seek him out.

He spots her first and grins, which makes her feel a lot better.

"Hey, you guys made it!"

"It's almost like I told you I was coming."

He ducks his head and Clarke realizes with a start that for the first time she's witnessed, he doesn't have a stuffed animal on him. He's wearing his 1-Up shirt again, but he's got a beer and no visible Pokemon.

It's kind of disconcerting, honestly. He seems under-dressed.

"Just like that. Hey, Monty. You guys got drinks?"

"Yeah."

"Cool. It's mostly coworkers of mine, so you're in for a lot of complaining about finals, AP exams, prom, school administrators--"

"So what you're saying is that it's going to be a wild party," Clarke teases.

"We're all going to get extremely drunk, so yeah. Wild."

He doesn't seem to mind her following him around; he introduces her to various people, makes jokes and grins and leans in close a lot so she can hear him over the music. It's great, but--honestly, she wants to know where his Pokemon are. It's _bugging her_.

She finds out when she goes to the bathroom and passes an open door on the way back. She can see a shelf covered in stuffed animals, some of which she's seen and someone of which she hasn't, and her impulse control is lowered enough that she ducks in to investigate further.

It's clearly his room, even without the Pokemon, clean and nice, with shelves full of books, a good array of classical texts, history books, and fantasy and graphic novels. It makes her feel warm and fond, being in his space, and she lets herself inspect the stuffed animals, because obviously those are the most exciting thing. 

She hasn't actually interacted with any of his toys up close, although he never seems to mind letting people do it. Kids come in sometimes and want to play with them, and Bellamy always happily hands them over, lets the kids cuddle them or whatever, and smiles when the parents apologize for bothering him. 

There are a lot more of them than she's seen, ones he apparently doesn't bring in. She really _does_ suck at Pokemon identification, has no idea what half of them are, but--they're cute and she likes them.

She's examining a kind of black cat thing with yellow rings on it when Bellamy says, "Did you get lost?"

She feels a blush rush up her neck to her face, and she drops the toy, which hits the other toys and knocks them all over. "Fuck," she says, and he laughs.

"I was wondering if you were ever going to ask," he says, coming to pick up the scattered Pokemon on the floor.

"It seemed rude."

"Unlike sneaking into my room to look at my stuff during a party," he says, but his grin is teasing. He puts the stuffed animals back on the shelf, and he's warm, right by her side. She knew she liked him, but it feels like she didn't know, at the same time.

"Everyone's got one weird quirk, right? I figured this was yours."

"Sure." He nudges her. "You can ask."

"What's this one?" she asks, picking up the black cat again.

"Umbreon."

"How come you never bring it around? I like it."

"Because it's mine." He picks up a Pikachu, which is battered and dirty, well loved in the way of childhood stuffed animals. Bellamy's thirty, five years older than Clarke, and she knows Pokemon started when she was pretty young. He would have been old enough that she expected him to outgrow stuffed animals, except that, of course, he still hasn't. "You know I'm ten years older than O," he says, and she nods. "So--our mom worked a lot, never had much time for us. Honestly, I think the main reason she had O was to get child support payments. She was always my responsibility."

Clarke nods. "Yeah, I kind of figured."

"I was seventeen when she started get sick. Mom, not O. We spent a lot of time in the hospital. I had this shitty old Gameboy, she'd watch me play Pokemon. So I saved up, got her the Pikachu. I figured it would help. And it did." He smiles a little. "She took this thing with her everywhere. Every time I got enough money to buy another one, I'd get one, but this one was always her favorite. And then, uh--she was nine when Mom died."

"Sorry."

He shrugs. "Wasn't a surprise. I was in college, but we both moved in with our grandmother because--I couldn't just leave her. I was already living at home anyway, and Grandma didn't mind. And O was still taking Pikachu everywhere. Even more. It was something familiar. Sometimes she took two or three of them. She said, uh--since I wasn't there, it helped." He nods once. "I got the job teaching right out of college, and it's a middle and high school, and O started seventh grade at the same time. And no one ever _said_ anything, but she heard some upperclassmen talking about _that Pikachu girl_ , so she said it was for babies and wouldn't bring it in anymore. So I started. Not the Pikachu, but--I just started carrying them around instead. And she still wouldn't do it, but I would have them in my room, so she could stop by. If she needed to."

"Did she?"

"Less and less as she got older. But, uh--it turns out once you get a reputation as _that history teacher with the Pokemon_ \--" She snorts, and he grins, a little sheepish. "Yeah, exactly. I didn't buy most of these, people just started giving them to me. I've got more in my classroom."

"But you still carry them around."

"Not always. But--I figured it'd make O smile. The first day I came in. And then I kept thinking she might show up. And then I was honestly curious how long it would take you to ask about it. You're not really subtle about looking at them."

"Jesus, you're a dick."

"It's not really a story I like to share, so I wasn't going to mention it."

"But you wanted me to ask."

"Well, it makes me look pretty good," he says, picking up a green thing that looks kind of like a lizard. "Nobly sacrificing my dignity to take care of my sister. Girls are into that, right?"

Clarke bites back on her smile. "Mm. Almost as much as they're into guys who carry Pokemon toys around with them at all times."

"I figured it made me seem whimsical. Manic pixie dream boy."

"Yeah, that was exactly it. I didn't think you did it as some sort of trauma thing."

"I guess I kind of do. But--yeah. it's mostly just an old habit."

"Big brother thing."

"Big brother thing." There's a pause, and then his tongue darts out. "So, how was it?"

"What?"

"The story. Satisfactory explanation? Or anti-climactic?"

"Oh." She picks up the Umbreon again, turns it over in her hands. "It was a cute story."

"Huh. Pikachu cute, or naked Shulk cute?"

Clarke snorts. "The Pokemon thing specifically, or you generally?"

"Me, generally."

"You're way cuter than naked Shulk," she says, and leans up to press her lips against his, feeling sure and easy. 

Happy.

He's smiling, mouth warm and curved against hers, and when his arm snakes around her, she lets herself relax into the kiss. She'd been hoping for this, and it's a relief that he responds instantly, tongue sliding against hers, pulling her close and sliding one big hand under the back of her shirt.

"How do you ever get laid in here?" she murmurs.

"Didn't think I was doing that badly," he says, kissing down her jaw.

"I can feel the Pokemon watching me."

It's enough to distract him, and he laughs, face against her neck. "Is that not hot for you? I totally forgot to mention the fetish thing, huh?"

"Asshole."

"Do you want me to put a blanket on them? Will that help?"

She laughs, checks to make sure the door is closed before she tugs him toward the bed. "Or you can just distract me."

Bellamy grins, leans in for another long kiss. "I can try."

*

He shows up at the coffee shop just after two on Monday, and he puts the Umbreon and a cartridge down on the counter for her.

"Seemed like you got attached," he says.

Clarke glances around, puts Umbreon on top of one of the espresso machines, like it's watching over the drink station. "Thanks. And the cartridge?"

"Pokemon Black. I've got standards, Clarke. I can't possibly date a girl who hasn't played Pokemon. It's a dealbreaker for me."

"We're dating now, huh?"

He leans across the counter to press a quick kiss against her lips. He's got Jigglypuff today, even though there was no school. It's entirely for her benefit.

He's her favorite.

"Not if you don't like the game," he says, and she laughs. 

"So, I have to love this."

"Just if you want to date me."

"Like I said, I have to love this," she says again, and he grins.

"That's what I'm saying, yeah."

On her break, she goes over to sit with him, just like always. He's on his laptop with a book open, working on grad school stuff, so she slides into the both across from him and puts her feet on his leg. "I named my otter thing Bellamy."

"Oshawott."

"And I have a bird thing named Raven."

"Jesus, this is already depressing. There are a lot of bird things, Clarke. Which one?"

"I don't know. Angry pigeon?"

He groans. "I'm going to regret this, aren't I?"

"Yup. But I like it, so you aren't allowed to break up with me. You just have to put up with me not knowing any of their names and purposefully making up shitty names for them to piss you off."

"Fuck. I didn't think this through, did I?"

"Nope," says Clarke. "But if it makes you feel better, I'm definitely going to catch them all."

"So much better." He rubs his thumb over her ankle. "Glad you're having fun."

"Yeah, it's the best," she says. "I can't wait to see how it goes."

From his small, private smile, Bellamy knows exactly what she means, so she settles in to make Bellamy the water otter fight against some kid who likes bugs or something. Her strategy isn't great yet, but it feels like her bird should be favored against bugs, and he _is_ just a kid.

Bellamy the human's hand is still resting on her leg, absent, gentle affection as he reads, and she finds herself grinning.

She's got such a good feeling about this.

**Author's Note:**

> Timestamp [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8721106/chapters/19994482)!


End file.
